Time
by Allerion
Summary: On the idea that Cobb truly awoke from his dream, this is Ariadne's reality, the end of her story.


It was the awe we felt at the experience we had both lived through that had brought us together. The way I leaped at it with such ceaseless curiosity and such ceaseless ease and such ceaseless courage, he said, was what caught his attention. The way he spoke to me, the way he behaved through the trial, the way he taught me the curious wonders of this new expansion of what is known to man, the way he moved as he conducted and carried out the plan, the way his face scrunched in concentration as he set up our way out, the way he kissed me to both hide from view and to savor, to enjoy, was what stole my thoughts and attention as we worked together.

I acted not and conveniently failed to bring up what had sparked between us in our illegal journey through time and mind as we carried onto safety. Instead, I smiled a happy, relieved smile at my first teacher and dear friend as he rushed out so that he could once again feast upon the sight of his children after so many years of fighting to return home. The corners of his lips twitched for but a second- a thanks and a goodbye- before he briskly headed away from me. I realized then and there, that I could have, one day, come to love him as he had room to love back, now that he had forgiven himself for the sins of his past. I brushed the thought away with a glance at he who stole my breath and affection here and now as he gathered his belongings, bending his slight body in a way I found strangely graceful for one of his stature. He peered up at me with an unhindered grin, his dark eyes meeting mine and filling me with a warmth that spread to my curling toes.

A smile grew on my face, despite myself, as I remembered the tiniest moment of intimacy we shared. Was it strange that he could capture me so? Was it strange that he could captivate my thoughts? Was it strange that he has almost rendered me to the level of a teenager smitten with a celebrity?

Was it strange that I did not mind?

I treaded almost hastily, too eagerly, to his side where I too could pull together my own things. as a poor excuse to touch him, I brushed his arm in the act of leaning over to grasp my own bags, now approaching on the conveyor belt. He too, seemed to have a desire to make contact with my skin and reached for my bag as well, completely covering my hand with his as he assisted me in picking it up and placing it beside me. I discovered that I was not beyond blushing and made an attempt to hide my face behind my dark locks of hair. As I stretched out to acquire what I thought to be my last bag, he suddenly curled my hair behind my ear. I just about dropped my back in shock- not simply at the audacity at such a gesture, but at my response; I had leaned into his touch, savoring the sensation. He grinned again, dark eyes shining with glorious mirth as I glared at him.

I liked this man. I liked how he was acting so boldly as well. Fearless. Or, careless of the thoughts and opinions of others. My expression softened and the corners of my mouth grew slowly into a hesitant smile.

And I turned away from him, one bag on my shoulder, the other trailing behind me. We would have separate paths to follow; I would visit for just a few hours more, then return to France to complete my education. He would stay for a while, then join he who left us earlier to continue working on such a fascinating way to steal secrets.

To steal secrets. To plant an idea.

Inception.

My face fell when the magnitude of the decision I was making crashed down on my small shoulders.

They said I would be back after the first lesson. This job was just too intriguing to let go after it has already been experienced. And they had been correct. I walked faster. I returned the next day despite the horrific experience of being murdered in cold blood the day before. I was madly in love with the thought of uncovering this expansion of our world, in love with the knowledge that I could create things that could never possibly exist in reality, in love with the idea that I could experience things that should never _be_. It was too...phenomenal to simply drop into the abyss of my memory. And I did discover more. And I did do things I never thought possible; I constructed my own surroundings with simply a thought, and I travelled deep into the mind of man.

And I was leaving it all behind.

My pace quickened to a brisk walk.

But why? What cause, what reason had I to leave after we had only just begun? After my life itself had barely begun?

With my slowly surfacing doubts, my steps grew hesitant and somewhat reluctant, my forward motion growing at an exponentially slower pace.

They said I would be back.

And I _did_ return.

And we have travelled far together, to places unknown and inconceivable to man, deeper than what I thought probable and within the laws of physics, planting a seed in such an unlikely manner that it gave such a thrill at the prospect of the success we had achieved.

I could not leave. Not now.

I came to an immediate halt and spun rapidly around, earning several frustrated gasps from those around me. But I cared not. I began to run.

If I did not leave now, there would be no turning back, no way to return and do the unthinkable. No way to carry on with the man I left back at the baggage claim. No way to tell him to take me with them. No way to express to him that I wanted to be with him. It was impossible now for me to continue with life as I always had. Not now that I have taken a bite from the forbidden fruit.

When I set eyes upon him, saw him struggling through the crowd of people to rush out as fast as his equipment would allow, I threw my things to the ground and dashed towards him.

He was searching for me, I knew. Recognition and relief was painted boldly on his face when he drank in the sight of me, sprinting to him, stunned at the sight of tears dripping down my face.

"Ariadne!" He hollered, and came to meet me, leaving his bags behind as well.

I crashed into him, almost sobbing with relief, gasping for breath, wrapping my arms around him, pushing my face into his chest. His arms mirrored mine and he began to stroke my back, shoving his own face into my tousled hair, breathing in the faint scent of shampoo.

"Arthur," I breathed. I pulled away and he took my face in his hands, losing all his composure as an accomplished young businessman. "I couldn't do it. I-I couldn't leave," I choked.

His thumbs brushed away the faint remnants of my tears, his face and actions giving away so much more emotion than he had ever shown in the past two months I had worked with him. "I know."

"You were right. I came back."

"I know."

"I-" he cut me off when he bent to press his lips to mine, carefully, tentatively, sweetly as he had the first time, long eyelashes brushing my skin. He pulled back to gauge my response. I was grinning, almost stupidly. The corners of his lips quirked upwards as his dark eyes relished the sight of my delight. He bent down again, and this time, standing on the tips of my toes, I met him midway, closing my eyes as I did so, covering his hands on my face with my own.

When we broke apart, he took my hand in his, enveloping mine, and said, "Come with me."


End file.
